


Footsie 401

by Reality 2_0 (reality_2_0)



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 07:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14491428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reality_2_0/pseuds/Reality%202_0
Summary: set during the White House years; a spiced up state dinner





	Footsie 401

Internally smirking, she slipped off one of her heels underneath the table while nodding politely to signal her table neighbor that she was listening.

She wasn’t as apt at multitasking as her husband, but she wasn’t a novice either and could definitely handle what she was about to do. If he could, though, was to be seen.

Payback could be a bitch.

When they had gotten dressed earlier, he had taken his sweet time zipping her up. He had trailed his fingertips up her back, had placed kisses on her neck and shoulder, had whispered compliments against her skin. In short: He had done everything he could that didn’t include both of them being naked to make her swoon.

She had shaken quite a few hands before she had managed to contain her arousal. Then he had leaned over and quietly told her that the dress was beautiful but that he couldn’t wait to unzip it again.

The damn man had obviously made it his mission to drive her crazy with desire for him and keep her wet all evening.

Well, two could play the game.

It was a delicate undertaking. If she missed her target, things could get very awkward very fast. Fortunately, she was aided by the seating which placed him directly opposite of her. Thus straight forward she aimed.

Just to be sure, though, she nudged the foot she encountered and waited for a reaction from either of the three men sitting across from her.

When she spotted a miniscule sign of irritation flit across her husband’s face, she knew she had gotten it right.

Replying to a question from her neighbor, she started to caress his calf with her foot.

This time, his reaction was more obvious as he startled a bit at the unexpected touch.

With a facile excuse, he dismissed his move toward his conversational partner. However, he also shot her a questioning glance which she made sure to ignore as she continued to act as if she had no part in what was going on beneath the table.

Responding to her dinner companion on the left, she trailed her foot further up his leg to his knee. As her toes massaged the back of his knee, she noticed him fidget slightly out of the corner of her eye.

She turned her attention to her plate to take another bite. “You okay?” her expression inquired when they looked at each other for a moment.

“That better be you,” he mouthed, his expression one of irritation.

“What?” she mouthed back while sliding her foot between his thighs, a mischievous smile on her face.

His eyes widened slightly when he realized just what she was up to. “No.”

“Yes.”

Their conversation was soundless.

Then she schooled her features back into friendly neutrality and shifted her attention to her neighbor on the right, knowing very well that there wasn’t really much her husband could do to stop her without drawing attention to them. He couldn’t get up, couldn’t spend the rest of the meal with a hand under the table, couldn’t push his chair back far enough. He was trapped – and at her mercy.

At least, a napkin covered his lap. It fended off any gazes from his table neighbors, staff and anybody who might pass him. Whether it would truly shield him, though, depended on his ability to keep a straight face and remain quiet.

Slipping underneath the napkin, her foot had finally reached its destination. She nudged his penis with her big toe, rubbed it gently.

It didn’t take long for the desired reaction to set in. While he concentrated on the guest of honor – or at least feigned interest – his erection grew. Much to her delight. Not that she could let anything show on her face either. Hiding her glee, however, was a lot less difficult than hiding his increasing arousal.

She was sure he would make her pay for this stunt later, but that was actually part of the fun. Whether they would make it to the bed and whether her dress would come off before the first round was anybody’s guess. That there would be more than one round, though, could be considered a fact. 

A keyed up husband was a very hungry husband. The thought made her tingle all over in anticipation. She couldn’t wait for him to take her like he had been suggesting all evening before dinner. Granted, things would be more frantic now, but far was it from her to complain. She was, after all, asking for it.

After a minute, she withdrew her foot a bit.

He relaxed slightly and glanced in her direction. She raised her fork and nodded at this plate, indicating he should eat.

It wouldn’t look good if the president barely touched his meal and would cause the kitchen staff to worry whether there had been anything wrong with the food. They strived to please the boss; the return of an almost full plate would be an insult. Besides, he would need the energy. It wouldn’t do to get interrupted by a growling stomach later. Not that food in bed couldn’t be erotic, but she doubted either of them would have the patience for it tonight.

She noticed he ate some bites of everything as fast as he could without appearing to gobble.

Once he put the fork down to reach for his glass, she waited until he had swallowed, then her foot zeroed in on its target again.

He had just started a sentence when she pressed her foot flat against his hard length. He stopped mid-word, covered his mouth with a hand and pretended to cough before uttering an excuse to his collocutor.

Apparently, he wasn’t feeling well tonight. She almost laughed. More a case of feeling too well.

Lessening the pressure, she proceeded to stroke him for a few minutes while he made conversation during which he never even attempted to take one more bite or sip, then she granted him another break. Whether he wanted to curse or thank her for it, she wasn’t sure. Either way, he used the time to eat.

They continued like that until the last course was served. By then, he had to concentrate hard to keep up his façade of composure as he was feeling everything but. She had teased him into a state of near orgasm, and he was running out of tricks, distractions to keep himself from coming right then and there in the middle of the state dinner.

He had pictured his opposite naked, recited the periodic table and bible verses, had listed the prime numbers up to 997, but his mind always returned to the image of his wife in underwear, stepping into the dress and asking him to zip her up, to envisioning peeling her out of said dress which looked utterly delectable on her. In that light, it all hadn’t helped much aside from prolonging the sweet torture his wife was dishing out, and unless she stopped soon, it all would be over in a different way. He was this close to the point of no return.

She knew it, too. After all their years together, they could read each other like open books, especially sexually. They were familiar with all the little signs, the amount of teasing the other could take, the looks that begged for more or pleaded for less.

For a moment, she considered letting him off the hook, not risking him having an orgasm in a crowded room where he was anything but a wallflower. However, she decided against the safe route and went in for the kill, rubbing him fast and with just the right amount of pressure she knew he enjoyed the most.

His eyes fixed on his plate, he tried to keep his breathing regular. He bit his tongue hard to prevent any moans, groans, grunts or sighs – not to mention swear words and other expletives that were not appropriate for the setting – from escaping.

Under the disguise of straightening her necklace, she trailed a hand over her skin along her neckline when he raised his gaze to look at her. She felt him pulse under her foot and was impressed by the restrained he displayed. Generally, he was a rather vocal and active lover. Silence and motionlessness were not his strong suit in bed at all. She would have to reward him later. If he gave her the chance to.

He jerked when a waiter appeared by his side, refilling his glass.

She had to bite her lip to keep herself from giggling at his predicament that she had caused.

Although she felt his erection abating, he would be uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. He might try to clean himself up a bit in the bathroom, but there was no way for him to change clothes without drawing attention to it. She would definitely pay for this. Actually, she already was. She was wet, her body throbbing with arousal, and contrary to him, her release would have to wait a while longer.

The thought to get herself off in the privacy of a bathroom was tempting for a second, but she knew that unless it was by his hand, it wouldn’t do much for her tonight. It would be empty. As much as she wanted the orgasm, she needed the closeness with him more. It was also a choice of suffering now or later as he would extend the payback if he found out about her taking the edge off by herself – and he would find out. Probably the minute she would rejoin the crowd afterwards. No, she would rather do her best to ignore her need, her desire until he could sate it.

Once the dinner was finished and the crowd relocated to the East Room, he appeared by her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“How wet are you?” he asked very quietly, his breath tickling her ear.

“How hard did you come?” she answered his question with one of her own.

“Fuck.” He groaned lowly.

She hummed in agreement. “Later,” she promised.

“As soon as possible,” he partly confirmed, partly specified with a growl.

She had to smile at the desperation in his voice. The knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, that she wasn’t the only one suffering would get her through the next hour or two. 

The time couldn’t pass fast enough. But until then they would smile and pretend to not want to jump each other and fuck each other’s brains out against the next best wall.

Good thing they had practice at that…

The End.


End file.
